


Samuel, Sylvester, Salvatore, Simon

by VioletsAreNotBlue



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 17:43:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6529810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletsAreNotBlue/pseuds/VioletsAreNotBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon hears that Camille has been arrested by the Clave. Which is weird, because he knows he signed a contract that exonerated her. There's only one person who can explain what went wrong, and Simon's going to drag that explanation out of him. Even if it is three in the morning, and the glitter-faced asshat can't even get Simon's name right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Samuel, Sylvester, Salvatore, Simon

**Author's Note:**

> I have too many feelings about the finale. Have some emotional trash.

Simon mashed the buzzer with his finger, repeatedly, until finally someone answered: "Who the _fuck_ disturbs the High Warlock of _fucking_ Brooklyn at three in the _fucking_ morning?"

Simon jumped back slightly from the buzzer, then edged back up to it. Magnus wouldn't be able to turn him into a dead bug through the intercom…probably. "It's Simon."

There was a long rush of static as Magnus groaned. "What do you want, Samuel?"

There was no point in correcting him. "I need to talk to you."

"Come back in the morning."

"I can't," Simon pointed out, "I'm a vampire."

"Well, it's not my fault you have shitty business hours," Magnus sniped. "Go away, I'm tired." There was a click as he walked away from the intercom.

Simon pushed the buzzer again. And again. And again. And again. And again—

"What do you _want_?"

"I need to talk to you," Simon repeated.

"So call me in the morning—"

"It's about Camille," Simon interrupted. "The Clave arrested her."

There was a silence. Then, in a much more somber tone, Magnus said, "Come on up, then."

Simon hesitated, then slipped inside the door and up the stairs as softly as a ghost. He didn't quite have the hang of vampire speed, but sometimes—like now, when his stomach was jangling with nerves—he had these bursts of, well, vampire-y-ness where moving quickly and quietly seemed far more natural than moving like a mundane.

He stuck his head into Magnus's opulent loft. "Hello?"

"In here, Sylvester."

Simon walked through and found Magnus sprawling on one of his couches, his hair sticking out in ten different directions and his silk robe half-hanging off his left shoulder.

"You look terrible," Simon blurted, and then regretted it when Magnus gave him the evil eye.

"It is three in the morning," he emphasized, leaning his chin on his hand. "Seriously, Scott, just send me a text next time."

A familiar prickle of irritation sped up Simon's spine. He just couldn't figure out why most of Clary's new friends were such assholes. Yeah, Simon had woken Magnus up at three in the morning, but that wasn't why he refused to use Simon's real name. Magnus never called Simon by his real name. This wasn't because he was tired; this was because he was being Magnus, and apparently someone who had only just become a Downworlder a few months ago wasn't worth Magnus's respect. Or, it felt, some days, anyone else's.

At least Clary and Isabelle were nice to him.

Simon folded his arms and shifted his weight. He kind of wanted to call Magnus out on his behavior, but Magnus looked about two seconds away from poofing Simon into a dust bunny.

"Camille got arrested," Simon said simply.

Magnus's eyes flickered with an emotion that Simon couldn't identify, just for a split second, before shuttering again. "As we all knew she would, eventually."

"No, you don't understand." Simon was starting to feel agitated now, almost anxious. He had to make Magnus understand that this was important, that he wouldn't barge into Magnus's loft in the middle of the night just to be brushed off like he didn't matter. "She got arrested for killing me."

Magnus leaned back into his plush couch. The gold flowers embroidered on his robe glittered in the light that poured in through his window. "Impossible. She had a contract that exonerated her from that particular crime. Don't you remember signing it, Salvatore?"

"Of course I do, but apparently, I _didn't_ sign it," Simon snapped. "The contract that Camille had was signed by someone named Sammy Landon. In ink. Not blood. And you know, it's funny," he added, as Magnus's eyes widened ever so slightly, "because when I signed that paper, I sure didn't use a pen. And unlike you, I know what my damn name is."

He fixed Magnus with the cold stare that he had learned from Raphael, waiting for Magnus to deny it. Instead, Magnus blew out a long sigh from between pursed lips.

"Well, there you have it," he said finally. "Camille has been arrested for breaking the Accords, and I imagine the Clave will kill her for it."

"They already have," Simon replied tartly. "The Downworld is buzzing about it."

The corners of Magnus's eyes tightened as if he were suddenly in pain. Simon remembered, too late, that Magnus and Camille had once dated.

"Look." Simon took a step forward, then regretted it and rocked back on his heels. He knew that he shouldn't be acting like this, all nervous and doing his best to be nice, but it was so hard for him to pretend to be tough. Especially right now, when he had just dropped a bit of a bombshell on Magnus.

A bombshell that Magnus had built.

"Look," Simon said again, "I just want to know—"

"You want to know what I did to the contract, and why," Magnus interrupted tiredly. "Samson, I have no love of the Clave, and I do not consider the Accords particularly fair; but one does not have to appreciate either of those institutions to consider kidnapping and murdering a mundane to be a crime, and a gruesome one at that. Knowing Camille, this was not the first time she had broken the Accords, and you can be assured that it would not have been the last. She is a criminal and a murderer."

Simon didn't bother to correct Magnus. "Yeah. She was also your ex."

The glamour dropped from Magnus's eyes, revealing slit pupils that were thin with barely-concealed anger. "She's been my ex for over a century, Silas. I assure you that this was nothing personal." His tone was freezing cold.

"I knew that," Simon muttered feebly.

Magnus stood up abruptly, pushing stray hairs from his eyes. His loosely-tied robe fell off his shoulder, revealing a jutting collarbone and a faint dark patch that looked suspiciously like an old bruise. "If that's all, I suggest you let me get back to bed."

This was pointless. Simon had already guessed that Magnus had interfered with the contract somehow; now, he had confirmed that suspicion. So what? What had that really gained him? Deep down, he had known exactly what had happened. Camille was dead, and Simon would never have to worry about her again.

After what she had done to him, and what she had done to his friends, Simon really ought to have felt relieved. Instead, he just felt cold and empty. He wished he could talk to Clary. Or Raphael, or even Isabelle—she was usually nice to him, even if she was intimidating. But Clary and Isabelle were doubtless asleep, and Raphael wanted nothing to do with him.

Things were getting awkward here, though, so Simon figured it was time to get out. "Right. Thanks. Bye." He turned to go. He would probably just wander the streets for a while, find someplace to hide from the sun until Clary was sure to be up, and then text her. He hoped she would reply. Ever since she had become a Shadowhunter, and he had become a Downworlder, there had been this uncomfortable gulf growing between them. Simon wanted to blame Jace, but deep down, he knew that Jace wasn't 100% the cause of the problem. He was maybe 60% at most.

He was just stepping out the door when Magnus called, "Simon?"

Simon froze and turned around slowly. Magnus was standing just down the hall, eyes re-glamoured and a very odd look on his face.

"Yeah?" Simon wanted to know.

"I would…appreciate it if you did not relay this conversation to Alexander."

It was Simon's turn, finally, to arch his eyebrows condescendingly. "Yeah?" he asked again. "Why not? He's going to find out Camille's dead when he reads the Clave's report. It's kind of his business."

"I know." Magnus spread his hands and did that funny little side-lean thing that he always did. He tended to move in big, circular motions, as though he were trying to occupy as much space as possible.

Simon waited a long time, but Magnus did not say anything else, so Simon folded his arms and asked, "So why shouldn't I tell Alec about this, again?"

Magnus winced delicately and looked at Simon's ear, his shoulder, his shoes—everywhere but Simon's face. He touched his ear as though searching for the snake-shaped ear cuff that he always wore and glanced out the enormous window that showed off the Brooklyn Bridge.

"I certainly don't regret what I did," he said finally. He sounded like he was trying really hard to sound bored and lighthearted, but frankly, he was failing horribly. "There's enough evil in this world without letting murderers walk free."

"But?"

Magnus shrugged and finally looked Simon in the eye, his face a careful mask of calm. "I may have ensured justice in a slightly…underhanded way."

"Slightly," Simon repeated.

Magnus shrugged again and half-turned away. "We do what we must."

"Mmm." The gears in Simon's head were turning steadily. Magnus obviously wanted to pretend that none of this mattered to him, but it didn't take a genius to see through that act. Magnus was upset at Camille's death, and he was, Simon realized, with a sudden drop in his stomach, ashamed. He had basically sent Camille off to die all those months ago. That was pretty cold, even if what he'd said about it not being personal was true. And if it hadn't been true, well, that was even colder.

And all that didn't take into account the fact that Alec was such a stand-up, by-the-books kind of guy. If Alec found out all the details…well, Simon didn't know Alec all that well, but there was a good chance he'd be at least a little disappointed in Magnus. Simon knew all too well what it was like to do your best to hide the ugly things you did from the people who mattered. There was a hell of a lot he wasn't telling Clary these days—not because they were top-secret vampire secrets (well, some of them were), but because they were things that painted him in, well, not the best light. Simon didn't want Clary knowing where he got his food, or all of what he did with his days (well, nights), because he was afraid that on some level, she would be disappointed in him. He didn't want her knowing about the sneaky, underhanded stuff that he had to do sometimes. Sure, she'd forgive him. Sure, she'd still like him. But her view of him would be tarnished, perhaps irreparably, and the thought of that happening was more than Simon could bear.

He sighed and stuff his hands into his jacket pockets. "Right. I get it."

"Get it?" Magnus asked, far too innocently. "There's nothing to get, Sasha."

"Really? You're moving into girls' names now?"

"Sasha is a boy's name," Magnus defended. "Just ask Tsar Nicholas II's son."

"Gee, I wish I could, but he died a long time ago."

A brief sparkle entered Magnus's dark eyes. "That's what you think."

The corners of Simon's mouth twitched up before he could stop them. "Okay, fine. I'll look him up." He paused. "But seriously, Magnus…I won't tell Alec. When he finds out, it'll be from the Clave's report. And I doubt they're going to say anything beyond 'the contract wasn't good.'"

"Thank you." Magnus's tone was…sincere. Which was weird. It felt wrong. This whole exchange had been awkward enough without Magnus displaying actual, human emotions. Especially towards Simon. It was way more than one vampire could take.

"I'm leaving now." Simon spun around on his heel and walked out into the night. Behind him, the door slammed shut.


End file.
